Heavenly Rush
by Rorry Lamb
Summary: Sansa Stark never wanted to see King's Landing again. She'd rather die then step foot in the Red Keep, but when Margaery Tyrell is tried before Queen Daenerys, Sansa begrudgingly returns to Kings Landing to speak on her behalf. And it is there that Sansa meets Aegon VI, heir to the iron throne. It is there that the ice around her heart melts. It is there she finds love.
1. Chapter 1

The war was over, and in the end it had not been the Lannisters nor the Baratheons nor the Tyrells or Starks that had won the bloody war. It had been the Targaryens that had won. It had been the two remaining Targaryen's with their three dragons that had reclaimed what was theirs. Like Aegon the Conqueror they had swept over the seven kingdoms with their dragon fire and unsullied warriors. Their conquest had not been bloodless. Many had died but many had been saved as well, from both men and white walkers alike.

Sansa hadn't met the Targaryen Queen nor her young nephew who was her heir. She hadn't wanted too, all she wanted was to return to Winterfell, where it snowed in summer and the scent of pine was heavy in the air. The North. That was her home, winter had been bred into her very bones and the thought of staying in the Eyrie did not appeal to her. Petyr Baelish hadn't agreed. He'd wanted Sansa to stay in the mountains, wanted her to marry Harry the Heir and rule the Vale. And though Harry had been a sweet boy Sansa had wanted nothing more then to return to her home. To her birthright. It hadn't taken much to convince Harry of her true nature and once that was accomplished the other highborn lords and ladies loyal to the Starks had been all to happy to restore the young woman to Winterfell.

It had been a sad reunion to be honest. The once mighty keep of Winterfell had been laid to ruins by the Boltons and by Theon. _Traitors, the lot of them_. Sansa had wept when she saw Winterfell, she'd wept and smiled and choked back her tears. She would not cry. Not now.

It hadn't taken much for the North to restore the Stark's ancestrial home. They'd all been more then happy to give Sansa the title of Wardeness of the North. A title she did not want. A title she accepted without much complaint. It had been hard, there was no denying that. The North had taken a large economical blow and with Winter coming... Well, Sansa had had her fair share of struggle to rebuild her country.

Then she got the letter.

It'd come almost a year into her rule as Wardeness, carried by a large black raven with the sigil of house Tyrell stuck to the back. Sansa's heart had stilled when she opened it.

Sansa knew what had happened to Jaime and Cersei Lannister- it hadn't been pretty but they deserved it? Didn't they?- and what had happened to Tyrion as well- he'd been made hand and their marriage had been annualed so that he could marry Tysha- but she hadn't heard of Margaery's fate, nor that of Tommen... Sansa sighed. The letter was from Margaery's grandmother Olenna Redwyne imploring the fiery haired Stark to come to King's Landing and speak on Margaery's behalf. Sansa couldn't refuse. She owed the chestnut haired Tyrell for more then Sansa cared to admit. And so a few days later Sansa Stark had packed her bags, left Winterfell in the care of Howland Reed, the man who'd lost two of his children and had pledged his service to Sansa Stark whenever she may need it. Sansa felt sorrow for Howland, two children dead? Horrible. But... His wife was pregnant again, though, Sansa wasn't sure if he poor woman would make it.

A party of Stark loyalists made their way from Winterfell at dawn and arrived at King's Landing a month later just as the sun was setting.

Blue eyes glared at the city. Sansa had never wanted to step foot in King's Landing again, she'd never wanted to gaze upon the city where her father had died and her dreams had been ripped apart. She just wanted to leave, turn her horse around and flee. As she gazed upon the city Sansa Stark felt more like an abused puppy then a wolf. With a snarl the Stark girl gripped her reins tighter and urged her horse into the city.

Targaryen banners flapped happily in the wind, triumphantly staking their claim over the city. How very magnificent they appeared, but, once Sansa had seen banners in crimson and gold that had seemed the exact same.

The people seemed happy enough. They didn't tug Sansa from her horse the moment she entered the city, but then, she did have several devoted soldiers surrounding her. All intimidating. All ready to kill for their wardeness. It gave Sansa some comfort to be sure.

"You don't have to do this my Lady." Asher Cassel stated as they neared the Red Keep.

Sansa glanced at him. Asher Cassel was a year older then she herself was at twenty and he carried a boyish innocence to his face. That innocence was a lie. He'd been the one to kill Ramsay Bolton during the reclaiming of Winterfell. He wasn't a murderous boy, in fact, he was rather sweet and Sansa hadn't hesitated in her decision to make him captain of her guard. His father Jory Cassel had been her father's closest friend at Winterfell as well as his closest advisers, and now, Asher was hers. Sansa relied on Asher and trusted him completely.

"I know." Sansa replied stonily and Asher placed his hand on his Lady's silk clad shoulder.

 _I am a Stark of Winterfell. I have survived Cersei and Joffrey and Petyr. I have faced winter and pain and loss. I am a Stark of Winterfell and I will not be afraid_. Sansa swallowed. Hard. What did a name have anything to do with it. She'd been a Lannister, a lion with a bloodied body. She'd been a Baelish, a Mockingbird meant to sing pretty songs. She was a Stark, a wolf with a steel pelt and daggers for teeth. She had the blood of the first men in her veins and that of a Warg as well. What diffence did a name make? She was Lady Sansa of Winterfell and she would not be cowed by a dragon she owed nothing to.

With a deep sigh Sansa Stark urged her horse through the gates.

Unsullied warriors were around them in seconds, their spears aimed at them warningly. Sansa blinked at them lazily. Oh yes, she knew they could easily over take her and her men, but they wouldn't dare. Not yet anyway.

The Unsullied led Sansa and her men to the stables where her men were more hesitant to dismount then their Lady who slowly threw her leg over her horse's saddle and used her arms to keep herself from laying across her horse's back. She didn't even jump when dark hands wrapped around her hips and gently lowed her to the ground.

"Thank you." Sansa said as she stepped away from the Unsullied warrior who'd helped her.

He nodded tersely and stepped away. No one moved until Sansa's men had stationed themselves around their Lady. The Unsullied seemed to understand well enough and never made a move to remove the northerner's weapons when they refused to give them up.

Then they were off. They took all to familiar paths in their travel through the Red Keep, though Sansa realized the decor had been changed. Sansa didn't expect to be taken directly to the Targaryen Queen, the Northern party was dirty and tired and they needed rest. Their audience with the Queen wasn't scheduled until tomorrow anyway, for which Sansa was thankful.

Apparently Daenerys Targaryen thought it funny to station Sansa in her old chambers. The chambers where she'd sobbed and cried and tried to burn her matress after her first bleeding. The same room the Hound had stolen a kiss and a song. The same room that held her fears and nightmares. Whatever joke Daenerys found in her actions Sansa completely missed.

She waited until her men were taken to their own chambers before closing and locking the heavy oak door. The room hadn't changed a bit. It was still large and open and airy. It was still all to familiar in its decor. It was maddening. Sansa tugged at her hair as she stepped toward the vanity. Her head hurt and her eyes burned. She would not cry.

A knock at her door startled her from her thoughts. The Wardeness smoothed out her skirts and glanced in the mirror once before going to the door. It was the unsullied feom before who met her, and he was accompanied by a dark skinned girl. Sansa raised a well groomed eyebrow.

"Yes?" Sansa implore politely.

The woman curtsied. "I am Missandei, My Lady. Khaleesi Daenerys has sent me to help prepare your bath." The girl, Missandei, stated kindly.

 _To spy more like_. Sansa did not speak her thoughts as she stepped back. Missandei and the Unsullied quickly entered her chambers. If she had been younger and naïve Sansa would have cried out and ordered him to leave, but Sansa was not young and though she was modest to an extent, she knew the Unsullied were cut at birth- a terrible thing to do to a child- and he posed no threat to her virtue.

"Grey Worm will cause you no harm My Lady." Missandei stated upon seeing the distrustful eyes cast upon the man.

"I never trust a man I do not know to be in my company with a weapon when I have no way of pretecting myself. To do otherwise would be foolish." Sansa quipped before turning and walking toward the bathing room. Missandei followed with a smile.

Missandei had gentle hands and a gentle voice. She told Sansa of the Queen and her nephew as she helped Sansa bathe- much to Sansa's displeasure. The girl was kind and she was sweet in her mannerisms, but Sansa had been tricked by such acts before. Never again.

When she was done bathing Missandei helped her dry and dress in simple clothing that had been a gift from the Queen. Once she and the Unsullied warrior left Sansa grabbed a cloak and slipped from the room. She needed to see Margaery.


	2. Chapter 2

To be honest, Sansa hadn't been prepared to see Margaery Tyrell. Of course she was glad her friend was alive but seeing her in that cell, seeing her brought so low... It pained Sansa a great deal.

They'd clung to eachother... Well, Margaery did the clinging and sobbing, Sansa had merely stroked her hair and rubbed her back. Margaery had confessed so much to Sansa in that cell. She'd told her about Renly and Loras and of the plot to kill Joffrey- Sansa already knew about that one though- and of other things as well. Sansa wasn't sure why she'd told Sansa anything. Wasn't she worried about her trial?

Sansa hadn't left Margaery until the same Septa that had stripped Cersei Lannister of her dignity came and ushered Sansa away. Margaery had screamed and begged and clung to Sansa, only stopping when the Septa had violently shoved her away. Sansa had taken an instant disliking to the woman as soon as she laid hands on Margaery.

Perhaps it would have been best if she hadn't seen her old friend before the trial. Perhaps it would have been better if Sansa had stayed in her rooms and rested. Seeing Margaery had caused slight damage to the ice cold, steel walls surounding her heart. Sansa tugged a brush through her hair, wincing when a particularly large knot was all but ripped from her head.

She had an hour before the trials started and Sansa was exhausted. She was sure her appearance showed as much anyway... Sansa didn't even have to look in the mirror to know there were dark circles under her eyes and a pale waxiness to her skin. A bath hadn't helped, neither had the nap she'd forced herself to take. It didn't matter. All she had to do was get through this one day and then she'd be able to leave at any point she wanted.

when Missandei came to escort Sansa and her men to the throne room. Each step Sansa took was a struggle, like she'd been dumped in knee deep mud and told to get herself out. She fiddled with her fingers, twisted the small steel and diamond ring- the ome that has once belonged to her mother- around her finger. Asher stood directly to her right, a reassuring presence she could turn to if she needed.

Missandei told Sansa that Margaery's trial would be held after Tommen's. She didn't need to of course, Sansa already knew. The small group entered the throne room unnoticed and took their places in yhe crowd. Blue eyes traveled the throne room, taking in the large dragon skulls that lines the wall, taking in the scarlet and black banners that hung proudly around the room, taking in the courtiers who had neither been kind nor cruel. But it wasn't the banners or the skulls or the men and women around the room that caught her attention. It was the woman sitting on the Iron throne and the young man standing beside her that drew her eye.

Daenerys Targaryen was lovely. A beautiful woman with long silver hair pulled back in thick braids, her eyes were a startling shade of purple, and her skin held a slight darkening from her time across the Narrow Sea.

Aegon VI Targaryen was equally as lovely with his shoulder length silver locks- slightly tinged with blue at the ends, and his dark lavender eyes. He was much taller then his aunt was and his face held a care free innocence to it.

Sansa briefly wondered where their dragons were. She knew there were three: Drogon, Viseriom, and Rhaegal. Daenerys' dragon Drogon was the largest of the three, Aegon's dragon Rhaegal was slightly smaller then Drogon but no less dangerous, and then there was Viserion whom had yet to claim a rider. Sansa's eyelid twitched. She could help but think of Lady, the silver direwolf who'd been rippe from her when Sansa was a child. She never found out what happened to Lady after her father had killed her... Sansa half suspected Cersei kept the pelt and used it as a rug to symbolize something. The thought made Sansa's heart stop angrily.

Daenerys Targaryen was a just queen- or at least, she appeared to be. When Tommen was brought before her the young bastard was garbed in clean clothing in his house colors. His hair had been shaved but he looked healthy enough. Tommen didn't sob or beg when Daenerys questioned him, he stood tall and proud and stared at the Dragon Queen. No one stepped up to speak on his behalf and Sansa pittied him. Tommen had no one to speak for him. Almost all of the Lannister's were dead. There had been a time when Sansa would have defended the boy, but those days were gone and Sansa wouldn't risk it.

The trial lasted an hour. It had been a fair trial and in the end Tommen was declared innocent. Tommen was places under the protection of house Martell- Sansa guessed it was because sweet Myrcella was betrothed to the prince of Dorne. She wasn't sure.

The boy bowed his head thankfully before he was led from the room. Sansa took several deep breaths. In a few minutes Margaery would be led through those doors and down the aisle to stand before the Dragon Queen.

At least Daenerys had been kind enlugh to allow Margaery to bathe and dress in silks. At least the Tyrell girl was allowed to look presentable. She wore a dress of green silk and her hair had been pulled back, revealing purple and yellow bruises. Margaery glared at the ground when she was pulled to a stop.

It would appear Margaery had gotten herself into quite a bit of trouble. Sansa closed her eyes. Margaery was always flamboyant, and very ambitious, but she was kind at heart. Hands shaking, Sansa gripped her skirts. The man questioning Margaery was nothing but cruel, he mentioned her brother's love for Renly Baratheon- called him foul names and made crude motions- and he dared to call her a whore. Sansa knew her questioning would be no better. He would say cruel things about the Starks, he might call her a kin slaughterer. He would ridicule her, he would cause her mental pain but Sansa wouldn't let it bother her. He might say cruel words but that didn't mean she had to listen.

"I would like to call Sansa Stark of Winterfell, Wardeness of the North to speak on my behalf." Margaery demanded as soon as she was allowed to speak.

Daenerys raised an eyebrow. "Very well then, if Lady Stark would step forward." Daenerys replied coolly.

The crowd parted as Sansa began the short walk to where Margaery was kneeling before the queen. They whispered warg. They lowered their eyes and shied away. Sansa dropped her skirts and moved to stand beside Margaery, who gripped her hand fiercely and let out a shuttering breath. Sansa dropped her hand hesitatingly before dropping into a slight curtsy.

She could feel two sets of purple eyes on her as well as the eyes of the court. It mattered not. Sansa would let them stare, she would let them whisper their cruel words and she would let said words roll off her skin like water. When she finally raised her head to meet the eyes of the Queen she was cold like the chilly winds of the North, and her eyes were ice. Her face was as impenetrable as her heart. She was Sansa Stark, Daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, Wardeness of the North, and Daughter of Winterfell. She was a direwolf. She was Sansa Stark, and she would not be afraid.


	3. Chapter 3

In the end Margaery Tyrell wasn't killed, nor was she stripped of her title and position as a Lady of House Tyrell. Daenerys saw no point in it, not after Sansa had stood before the entire Targaryen court and spoke of Margaery being nothing but kind, saintly even. And in the end Margaery Tyrell became a ward of the Crown.

Margaery had wept. As happy as she may have been she jut wanted to go home. She wanted to see Highgarden and her father and her brothers and her puppies and roses. She wanted to see the barges and the sunsets. She wanted to participate in the fall festivals and masquerades. Margaery didn't want to stay in King's Landing. Sansa understood, and so, when it was time for them to go Sansa linked her arm through Margaery's and led the sobbing Tyrell to her rooms.

The Targaryen's watched them the entire way.

Daenerys sighed. The trials were over, all those who had usurped and betrayed the Targarens had been dealt with. Courtiers began to file out of the throne room, men and woman garbed in expensive silks and bawdy jewels. Daenerys felt disgusted by them. The seven kingdoms were in a sever economical crisis- one Daenerys wasn't sure she could fix all on her own- and these people were so vain as to spend all their money on expensive clothes and jewels they'd only ever wear once.

At least the Stark girl seemed to have some sence.

Daenerys had never met Sansa Stark before. She'd heard stories of the girl from Tyriom and from courtiers and such. From what she had gathered Sansa Stark was a soft spoken girl with dreams of knights and beliefs that the world was a song. Apparently that wasn't the case. Not anymore anyway.

The Sansa Stark that had stood before the court to defend the Tyrell girl was nothing like the girl Daenerys had invisioned. The girl who had stood before her had been hardened by the loss and pain of war. She was lovely though. Tall and fair and kissed by fire.

"Well, that was interesting." Aegon stated, though his tone told Daenerys that he didn't think it was at all interesting. In fact, it'd all been terribly boring.

The silver haired Queen turned to Missandei, who had been standing beside Daenerys sine Tommen Lannister's trial. The dark skinned hand maiden smiled sweetly as her dark eyes met the stunning purple of her Queen.

"Tell Sansa Stark that I wish to dine with her at supper." Daenerys commanded.

"Is there any particular reason? Your grace." Missandei implored softly.

Was there? Well, Daenerys certainly wanted to discuss the process the Wardeness was making in restoring the North, but that wasn't dinner talk. The silver haired woman shook her head.

"Tell her, it's a social visit."

Missandei bowed her head, then she turned and left. Aegom raised an eyebrow at his aunt and she promptly ignored him in favor of turning to look at the small man sitting beside her throne.

Tyrion Lannister was reading a thick volume of tales. He certainly wasn't the most beautiful of creatures- not with his scarred nose and mismatched eyes- but his intelligence made up for what he lacked in appearance ten fold.

"You're starring." Tyrion remarked, his eyes never left his book as he flipped a page.

"You were married to Lady Stark, were you not?" Daenerys implored slowly.

"An arrangement neither of us agreed to, I can assure you." Tyrion stated bitterly.

It was common knowledge that Tyrion Lannister and Sansa Stark had been forced into the marriage by Tywin Lannister- a man Tyrion held no love for. Daenerys almost pittied Sansa for it but she herself had been in a similar situation and she'd been happy. Very happy.

"What are your thoughts on her? Is she a threat?" Daenerys asked.

Tyrion slowly closed his book. His black and green eyes blinked lazily as they settled on the Queen. Aegon shifted so his back rested against the iron throne. It had to be uncomfortable but he didn't seem to mind.

"Lady Stark is no threat to the Iron Throne or your claim. She wants nothing to do with King's Landing, let alone the throne."

"Everyone wants the Iron Throne," Aegon stated, "It's a symbol of supreme power. All mortals want power."

Tyrion rubbed his eye. "When I first met Sansa Stark she was a child of ten and one. A very sweet girl, to be certain, in love with the idea of being queen beside the man she thought she loved. She would have made my vicious nephew a good queen... Had he had the sense to love her."

"That doesn't ease my concern." Daenerys snapped.

If anything, it made it worse. If she was in love with the idea of being queen... Would she revolt? Would Sansa Stark rally the North and strike King's Landing? The Northerners held no great love for the Targaryen line and Daenerys understood why but... She wouldn't risk another war.

"What makes you so sure Lady Stark won't lead a revolt? What makes you so sure she won't try and take the Iron Throne?" Aegon questioned.

"She wants nothing to do with this place. I'm surprised she even came here to speak for Lady Margaery." Tyrion stated.

"Why do you say that?" Daenerys asked.

"Well, my nephew had her watch her father's beheading."

Daenerys knew all about Eddard Stark's execution. Knew why he had refused to bend the knee to Joffrey... If he hadn't been apart of the Rebellion Daenerys would have held a great deal of respect for the dead warden of the North.

"She was stripped and beaten before the court."

That forced a sound from the dragon Queen's throat. The court... The same court Daenerys forced herself to keep had watched- and found possible enjoyment- in the humiliation and torment of a child. The amount of mental and physical scarring that must have put her through... Daenerys swallowed her anger. Joffrey Lannister deserved the death given to him.

"She was attacked in the riots of Flee Bottom. Nearly raped there too."

It was Argon's turn to make a noise. Daenerys understood why he found the idea of rapping woman so repulsive. Aside from the fact that Aegon was a good man, it was well known that Aegon's mother Ellia Martell had been rapped and slaughtered by Gregor Clegane during the rebellion.

"There was even a time when Joffrey threatened to serve Lady Sansa her brother's head during his wedding... Sansa knows nothing of that, and I would be thankful if you kept it to yourself. She's a sweet girl and she'd make a good queen, but I'd suspect there aren't many good memories in King's Landing." Tyrion said as he stood.

Daenerys bit her lip. "We never had this discussion." She affirmed, looking at both Aegon and Tyrion.

The small man scowled. "Of course we didn't. Everyone in the Red Keep knows of Sansa's mistreatment. You could have heard everything from the servants, we all know how they love to gossip... Now, if you'll excuse me. I promised I'd meet Tysha. Good day."

Tyrion Lannister left with a bow and a scowl. Daenerys gazed around the empty throne room.

So many bad memories... Generations worth, even. Daenerys sighed, rubbed her eyes, then turned to Aegon. The silver haired boy smiled flippantly and Daenerys wondered if her brother had looked that way when he had smiled.

"We'll be supping in the Maiden's Vault. I expect you to be there. Dress nicely, and don't forget to be polite. I don't want to hear any comments about the Starks." Daenerys snapped.

Ageon's lovely lavender eyes narrowed. "I won't say anything about Lady Stark's family when Lady Stark's around." He promised.

Daenerys nodded tersely.

"Thank you... I know this is hard for you Aegon, it's hard for me as well, but Sansa Stark had nothing to do with the Usurper nor his rebellion. Sansa Stark did not kill Rhaegar nor Ellia nor Rhaenys. Be kind Aegon, at least for the night."

Aegon's eyes softened a bit but they turned to purple stone a second later. "I will be kind." He agreed.

Silver hair bounced slightly as Daenerys rose. The trials were over, the courtiers gone, and she had a dinner to prepare for. Aegon was quick to offer his arm to his aunt and she took it without much thought. The two exited the Great Hall in silence, the only sound to be heard was the clack of their shoes on the ground and the scrapping of oak and iron on stone as the doors to the great hall closed.


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you enjoy it here in King's Landing, Lady Sansa?" Aegon asked during dinner.

The red haired wardeness blinked slowly, her icey blue eyes hardened significantly as she lowered the glass of wine she'd been sipping from. The Northerner swallowed quietly before giving the older male a chilling smile.

"Just as much as I always have." Sansa replied slowly.

Daenerys glared at her nephew. This dinner wasn't about tormenting Sansa Stark. The silver haired queen lowered her own glass of wine. Aegon had been an ass all through dinner. No, he never said anything about Sansa's family or the Lannksters, but that never stopped him from making snide remarks.

"I'm glad, my Lady." Aegon remarked slowly.

Sansa blinked lazily. She was used to hurtful words... And to be honest, Aegon Targaryen didn't have Joffrey's talent when it came to being vicious. Slender fingers smoothed over the silken fabric of her skirts. They'd been a gift from the queen herself and Sansa knew it'd be rude to not wear the gown to dinner. Especially since the Queen had it made for Sansa specifically. It was odd really, but Sansa wouldn't mention it to her.

"Thank you, My Lord." Sansa said softly.

Daenerys rolled her purple eyes. Aegon smirked, his own lavender eyes glinting with something akin to amusement. He'd always loved attention, especially when it came from members of the opposite sex, but this was ridiculous.

"Don't mind him." Daenerys said as she slowly cut into her food.

Sansa glanced at her own food. She'd barely eaten anything, not that it wasn't delicious. She just wasn't hungry. Sansa's stomach kept clamping and releasing giving her the distinct impression that there was a possibility she wouldn't be able to hols much food down. Sansa swallowed. She shouldn't be so nervous. If Daenerys Targaryen wanted her dead then Sansa would have been dead... Aegon Targaryen on the other hand...

Blue eyes flickered over to the boy. He wasn't that much older then her. He couldn't be more then five-and-twenty, only five years her senior. He was tall, tall and lanky and broad of shoulder. His lankiness told Sansa that he'd yet to reach his full hight. Sansa absently noted the way he leaned back in his seat, all long limbs strengthened by years at sea. The way he stared at her though... As if he were assessing her worth, seeing if she was worth keeping alive, worth his time.

Such thoughts made Sansa bristle inwardly. Aegon VI Targaryen had no right to look at her in any such way. By what basis could he judge her? Aegon didn't know her, all he knew about her he'd gotten from stories and gossip and reports. Where was he when her father had been killed? Where was he when she'd been beaten and stripped before the court? Where was he when Joffrey had forced her to kiss his sword? Where was he, in all his loveliness, when she'd heard knews of her family's death? He was no where. He had been on a boat some thousand miles away. He could not judge her. He had no right.

"Do you find the food adequate Lady Stark? I must apologize if our food is inadequate for you. My aunt and I have grown so acustom to foreign foods."

Was he trying to provoke her? Of course he was. Sansa wanted nothing more then to take her glass and dump the contents on his pretty silver head. The dark wine would stain his doublet if she did, and the thought oddly amused her.

"No, the food is lovely. I'm just... Rather tired from the trip is all." Sansa replied slowly.

It wasn't a lie necessarily. Sansa was tired. She hadn't had a full nights rest in the month it took to travel south and she had various small blisters here and there. All in all, she just wanted to sleep. But not here. Not in that room. So if dinning with the queen and her nephew kept her mind occupied then so be it.

"A shame." Aegon commented.

"To some it would be." Sansa agreed.

Daenerys watched the two. Her nephew was actig horribly and Sansa was holding her tongue in an attempt to not affend either Targaryen. Aegon knew it too. That's why he was acting the way he was acting.

From the moment Sansa Stark had entered the Maiden Vault clad in silks and a simple pearl necklace, her face a steel mask, Aegon had been throwing hidden insults and backhanded compliments in an attempt to get some form of a reaction that wasn't a hardened smile and even harder glances. Daenerys was almost tempted to see just how far the wolf girl could be pushed. Almost.

"Would you prefer something else?" Daenerys asked if only to be polite.

Red hair flashed like fire as Sansa shook her head. "If it please you, Your Grace, I would like to retire for the night."

"Of course. Grey Worm, please escort the Lady Stark to her chambers."

The Unsullied warrior nodded his head once and moved to stand behind the res head. Sansa thanked the queen and bid her good night, she barely sparred Aegon the time for such niceties.

It wasn't until the heavy door had been firmly shut that the queen turned her fiery gaze on her nephew. Aegon blinked lazily, smiled cheekily, which only fueled Daenerys anger.

"Stop acting like a child Aegon." The girl hissed.

"I don't know what you mean." Aegon defender himself bitterly.

"Don't. You were being cruel Aegon. You knew your words wouldn't get a reaction out of the Stark girl yet you spoke them anyway. What did you think would happen? Did you think she would tell you to stop? To be quiet? That your words were hurtful? You are a prince and such words could have gotten her killed if you had taken true offence." Daenerys growled.

It wasn't that she would have cared if Sansa had told her nephew to bite his tongue. It was the fact that Aegon knew she wouldn't and yet he still provoked her that made Daenerys furious. Most times Aegon acted like Rhaegar and what she assumed Elia had been like, but, there were times when he acted like a foul git. She hoped it was a phase.

"It was nothing." Aegon grumbled, his posture told Daenrys that her nephew was growing uncomfortable. Good.

"Nothing. You were acting like that vicious bastard that called himself a king. Do you think Sansa Stark wants to be here? I can assure you she doesn't and you haven't helped her feel welcomed." Daenerys snapped.

At least he had the decency to blush.

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again." Aegon mumbled.

"You're right. It won't. Which is why tomorrow morning I exspect you to apologize to Lady Stark."

Aegon nodded mutely. Daenerys sighed tiredly.

"You can go if you wish it." Daenerys stated.

The silver haired boy rose slowly. His eyes down cast, lips tilted down, eyebrows scrunched. He turned and made his way to the door. Daenerys watched him. Watched the way his hand clenched and relaxed. Watchedthe way he rolled his left shoulder. Watched the way he shuffled toward the door. He stopped when his hand rested upon the brass knob.

"Good night, Danny." Aegon said kindly.

The Queen smiled. "Good night, Aegon."

With those three words spoken the boy nodded his hand and slipped from the room. Danerys rubbed her eyes. It's been a long day. A very long day. She needed to sleep and maybe even bathe. With one final glamce around the room Daenerys motioned for Missandei to follow her and exited the room.


	5. Chapter 5

When Aegon Targaryen arrived at Lady Stark's door to ask her to join him in breaking his fast, he'd expected her to have already broken hers and politely decline his offer... He hadn'r expected to find that she'd left earlier that mourning to break her fast with Tyrion and his family. He found it odd that his aunt would insist he soeak with Sansa Stark even knowing she wouldn't be there to speak with. Odd very odd.

The prince wondered away from Sansa's chambers, not seeing the sence in waiting for her, and ambled toward the library., though, he didn't really feel like reading at the mkment. Aegon rubbed his temple. Well, what was he going to do now? Perhaps he could ridd Rhaegal, lord knows he hadn't given proper care to his beloved dragin in days. How negligent of him.

"Prince Aegon?"

The boy jumped slightly and turned to scowl at Missandei. He liked the girl well enough but she had horrible timing sometimes.

"Yes?"

"Daenerys wishes to see you. She says it's urgent."

Before Aegon could reply Missandei left with Grey Worm. Aegon rolled his lavender eyes before turning and marching off through the Red Keep.

Usually his aunt was in her study at this time if day, seeing as to how the study was attached to her chambers and the safest place in the blokdy Red Keep due to the ungodly amount of Unsullied standing about. Today was no acception.

When Aegon knocked on the heavy wooden door it swung open to reveal Queen Daenerys Targaryen. Her hair was swept up in a messy braid and she was pouring over some documents. She barely gave Aegon a glance but he ignored that. They'd known eachother long enough to know a slight from a business gesture. It taken practice but they'd gotten there.

"Have you spoken to Sansa Stark yet?" Daenerys asked.

"No... Why? Is something the matter?" Aegon replied.

Daenerys shook her head just as the door swung open to reveal Tyrion Lannister. He looked disgruntled and Aegon wondered if he was genuinely upset to be missing a meal with Sansa Stark. Well, it certianly wouldn't have surprised Aegon, the two had a not-quite-friendship.

"Tyrion, now that everyone's here shall we begin?" Daenerys asked.

"Of course." Tyrion quipped as he climbed into a chair.

They'd tried making him special furniture for public places so that he wouldn't feel as though he was being watched and judged but the man had gruffly refused thier offer and told them he'd rather be a laughing stock than take charity when it came to his stature. Aegon respected the small man a little more for that.

"I recieved a letter from the High Septon." Daenerys stated.

Ah yes, Aegon had personally stationed the man in the Sept almost five months ago after the last High Septonntried to accuse his aunt of incestious acts toward Aegon and Viserys, as well as treason, and the intentual murder of her husband and son. He hadn't been much of a dinner for their dragons so he and several of his followers were given to the dragons. On Daenerys' part, she had tried to be merciful. Banishment to the ruins of Old Valeria. The man had tried to kill the queen and her nephew along with twelve others. They'd been exicuted the next day and Aegon had placed his old friend- a very religious yet good hearted lad- in the position of High Septon. So far there'd been very little problem.

"And." Tyrion prompted.

"He said he was worried for our line. He told me that with only two Targaryens left it would be all to easy to crush our dynasty once and for all." Daenerys stated.

"And he's right." Tyrion stated calmly.

Daenerys shot him a light glare. "As you know I am unable to have children which means thay responsibility falls to you, Aegon." Daenerys replied.

"Yes, I'm well aware..." Aegon muttered.

The Targaryen queen's eyes softed a great deal. Her hand reached out to rest over that of her nephew and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"I won't lie to you, Aegon. Not all arrangements such as this end happily. I won't say you won't hate your wife, but I promise you that I am going to do all in my power to make sure that doesn't happen." The dragon queen soothed.

Tyrion coughed slightly.

"I do hate to break up such touching moments but we have a marital match to make." He said sarcastically.

Daenerys smoothed out her gown. "Yes, of course," she said as she removed her hand, "I would suggest the Martell house but..."

"They're still angry with your for Quintin's death."

"That was not my fault."

Aegon blinked. He'd heard about the little idiot's attempt to tame one of the two remaining unclaimed dragons. He'd died in his attempt and the Martell's had been less than happy about it. Aegon didn't blame them for being angry- the boy had been idiotic after all- but why they blamed Danny for the boy's death Aegon would never know.

"The Tyrell girl?" Tyrion suggested.

"Absolutely not." Aegon bit out.

He did not want to share his bed with Margaery Tyrell. She was a seductress and she was ambitious... And while Aegon had no qaulms with bedding a woman who had lost her maiden's head, he did not want to bed Margaery Tyrell based on the very simple fact that she would have bedded any man to get her a throne or a crown. Besides... Aegon wasn't sure he trusted her enough for such comitment.

"Very well then... What about that Baratheon girl? Stannis' daughter." Tyrion suggested.

"No." Both Targaryen's barked.

No Baratheons.

Tyrion grew silent. Aegon could see his mind working at something. He could see it in the little man's eyes. See it in his shoulders. Whatever he was about to say was going to bring this conversation to an end... One way or another.

"An alliance with the North would do you good. The Northerners pnly tolerate you, they have no true loyalty... A sign of good faith would be fir Aegon to marry one of their own." Tyrion stated.

The boy blinked. Yes, it was a good idea... Wasn't it? Marry a Northerner, bed a Northerner, produce heirs with a Northerner, hopeefully grow to love a Northerner. It would ensure the Northerner's somewhat loyalty.

"Who?" Daenerys asked.

"You know who." Tryion replied.

"She won't accept." Daenerys snapped.

"Then obviously you don't know her well enough. She needs an heir just as much as you... Besides, Aegon would be good for her." Tyrion snipped.

The Targaryen boy in question huffed. He hated when they did this. Tyrion and Daenerys had this ability to communicate with little to no wording and they often forgot that not everyone knew what the bloody hell was going on. Aegon coughed in an attmept to get their attention.

"Sorry to interrupt, but who are we talking about?" Aegon questioned.

"Sansa Stark."

And suddenly it all made sense. Why Daenerys had insisted the girl stay, why she inisted on him making amends with the Stark. Aegon crossed his arms. He couldn't say no. Not really. His people needed this, just as her people needed it. An alliance between the two most powerful houses in Westeros would create unity. A much needed unity.

"Very well." Aegon bit out tersely.

"Aegon, this cou-"

"I agreed didn't I?" Aegon snapped.

"She's very pretty." Tyrion stated slowly, his mismatched eyes never leaving Aegon.

Yes. Sansa Stark was one of the most beautiful woman he'd yet seen. Kissed by fire and touched by winter she was. Her Tully features complimented her Northern characteristics well.

"... She's a Stark..." He muttered.

"Is that your only objection?" Daenerys hissed.

No. Aegon wanted to say. _No_. Truth be told... Aegon didn't give a damn about Stark blood and Targaryen blood. He didn't give a damn if she was a Northerner. He might not entertain the idea that his father was in love with her aunt, in fact he blatantly denied it every time he heard the topic brought up, but Sansa wasn't Lyanna Stark and Aegon was not Rhaegar Targaryen... Well, that was a bit of a lie... A big lie.

"I suggest you speak with Sansa, get to know her a bit before you wed. Daenerys and I are going to talk to her about the arrangement." Tyrion supplied.

"Why?" Aegon asked sharply.

"Because the last time she entered an arranged marriage she did not end up happy."

Aegon wasn't sure if Tyrion was talking about his nephew or himself. With a sigh Aegon nodded. He bid his aunt and friend a good mourning and left as quickly as possible.

He had a lot of thinking to do and he only knew of one safe place to do such thinking. The Gods Woods.

Well, he had intended to travel to the Gods Woods- he might not keep the old godd but the Gods Woods wS kore often then not abandoned- he really had bit when he was traveling through the gardens, purposely taking the long route, he accidently ran into Sansa Stark. No, he didn't actually rin into her, he merely spotted her and Tysha sitting on the stone ground near the roses... And he'd decided to watch... From afar.

The Stark girl's hair was unbound and for a moment Aegon wondered why until he saw the little blonde child playing with the fiery strands. Ferryn Lannister, the six year old daughter of Tyrion and Tysha. A sweet girl with her mother's tall stature and her father's mismatched eyes.

Aegon watched as the little girl tugged to hard on Sansa's hair, earning a slight wince but nothing else. She never reprimanded the child as a mother might, never huffed and raged as a Southern lady might, she merely sat there and accepted that the child had mant no harm.

She was a fascinating creature, that Sansa Stark, and Aegon had always been captivated by fascinating things. The ocean. The wild. The dragons. All Fascinating. And Sansa Stark could be placed right there with them. Fascinating, unpredictable, wild.

Aegon turned quickly and made for his chambers. He needed to think.


	6. Chapter 6

They's came to her after lunch. Daenerys in her crown and Tyrion with his kind smile. Sansa swallowed hard and allowed the two to lead her to Daenerys' study. Sansa swallowed, smoothed out her skirts, and twisted the worlf ring adorning her right index finger. Tyrion had assured her that Daenerys only wanted to talk, make a proposal. That's all. And so, Sansa followed the two with all the dignity and grace she could muster up.

To be honest, she'd been expecting Daenerys to demand she give up Winterfell or, at the very least, a large portion of the North. She'd expected the dragon queen to command Sansa to renounce her claim. Sansa had been quite surprised when Daenerys asked none of those things from Sansa... No, Daenerys wanted something far worse. Daenerys wanted a marriage.

Sansa shouldn't have been surprised when Daenerys suggested it seeing as to how Sansa was nine-and-ten years of age and still without heir or husband. If she wanted to keep Winterfell in the Stark lineage Sansa knew she'd have to marry soon but she'd been hoping to avoid doing so for some time... Though, it would appear Daenerys wanted her to birth an heir as soon as possible. _She probably wants me to marry a northerner._ Sansa thought bitterly as she took a sip from her goblet.

"I understand your hesitation, Lady Stark, but this union could help both the South and the North." Daenerys stated.

Sansa felt like she was going to be sick. Felt like she was going to reach across the table and shake the Targaryen Queen. Tully eyes shine as Sansa dropps her gaze to glare angrily at the table.

Hesitation? No, it was far more than that.

"Besides, Aegon is a very sweet boy." Tyrion offered.

As she were being controlled by tiny threads Sansa's eyes snapped up to meet Tyrion's. _Aegon is a very sweet boy_. _Aegon is a very sweet boy._ Sansa's stomach dropped to her feet. No. She wanted to scream. No. The word coated her tongue like a sweet poison. Please no. Sansa never said a word though, she merely swallowed and hoped her face didn't show her true feelings toward the matter.

"I highly doubt our people will be... Pleased with the arrangement." Sansa stated.

If there was any way to get out of this situation it would be to get the people involved. Daenerys' first priority is and always will be, the people. Sansa watched Daenerys as the silver haired woman took a sip of her own wine.

"They will be accepting of the arrangement if it puts food on their tables and saves their children from death." Daenerys replied smoothly.

Tyrion turned to look at Sansa, obviously aware of her growing discomfort. His small, scarred fingers reached out to curl around Sansa's shaking ones. Out of everyone in the Red Keep, maybe even Westeros, Tyrion understood. He'd been there when Joffrey had her stripped and beaten before the court. He was kind to her when others weren't. He was one of her closest friends.

"Sansa, neither of us want to put you in a position whick will cause you harm. The gods know youmve had enough of that from my nephew, but this union between the houses Targaryen and Stark would be beneficial for both of your people." Tyrion said kindly.

She didn't respond and so Daenerys leaned back and crossed her legs.

"Lady Stark, you have a duty to your people it's true, but you aren't an animal. I won't force you into this arrangement, but I implore you to think of what is best for your people."

 _Damn her_. Sansa knew what the dragon queen was doing. Little finger had taught Sansa all about the arts of manipulation, she knew the signs, knew the tricks. Daenerys might not have had a teacher like Sansa had but the Targaryen didn't need one... Did she?

There wasn't much of a choice. Sansa might not be an animal but she was a leader. She had duties and obligations and Sansa didn't have the freedom of choicing what she did or didn't want. As much as she wanted to say no, as much as she wanted to tell Daenerys and Tyrion she wasn't interested in their little offer... But she couldn't. She didn't have the right to say no.

"If I agree, what does this entail for my people?" Sansa implored.

Daenerys smiled. "The north has a wealth in wool, timbers, and hides. There are also the Silver Workers at White Harbor. The South is lousy with silks, jewels, and spices." Daenerys stated.

"And what use have we for silks and jewels and spices," Sansa bit out and she could have sworn she heard Tyrion snicker, "Timber and wool and pelts are necessary to the North. Our days are cold and our nights are colder. Jewels and silks do not keep us up at night."

An airy laugh escaped the Silver Queen. She was beginning to like the Stark girl. Daenerys smirked as she placed her clasped hands on the desk before her. Purple eyes locked with vibrant blue and Daenerys briefly wondered if it were possible for them to become any bluer.

"Very well, it's true that most of the land is uncultivated is it not?" Daenerys implored and once Sansa nodded she continued. "The South is rather well off when it comes to crop growth, and in return for you wools and timber and pelts my people will supply yours with crops, wines, and spices."

"I want Medicine." Sansa demanded.

The room grew silent. It was well known that during the war many Maesters were killed due to sicknesses they had no medicine to treat or murders. Even now, when new Maesters came from all over Westeros and Pentos, there were still many recovering from the war and it's damage wrought upon the North, and with the North still trying to recover financially... Daenerys nodded slowly.

"Very well. Medicines and Maesters will be sent to the North." Daenerys promised.

Sansa's world spun. She didn't want this. She didn't want a throne or a crown or a Targaryen. She wanted Winterfell. She wanted children named Eddard, Rickon, Robb, and Brann. She wanted a marriage based on love not forced political matters. Sansa would have laughed at the situation. _Life is not a song, and I have learned that... Much to my sorrow._ Sansa blinked once before meeting Daenerys gaze.

"I believe we have a deal. I'll marry your nephew and you will supply my people with medicine and food." Sansa said softly.

"Yes. A deal indeed." Daenerys agreed.

Sansa nodded, stood, and smoothed out her gown. "Is that all, your majesty?" Sansa implored.

"Yes. You may go."

Sansa fled from the room as fast as possible without seeming rude. She all but ran down the corridors, she ignored Asher, ignored any who tried to speak to her. She brushed past people with blurred features. It wasn't until she was safely locked away in her chambers that Sansa allowed herself to cry.

The Stark sobbed silently as her back slid down the door. Her skirts twisted about her as she finally came to a rest on the ground. Salty tears streaked her cheeks, they burned as they fell. Sansa wiped her tears away and pulled her knees to her chest. She should have never come, she should have stayed in Winterfell... Sansa felt pressure behind her eyes. Would they even allow her to return to Winterfell? Did they expect her to rule Winterfell from the Red Keep? The very thought was laughable. Of course they wouldn't.

Eventually Sansa gathered her dignity and stood. She promised Asher they'd dine together with Margaery tonight and she needed to look appropriate. Tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes wouldn't do. With a soft sigh Sansa stood, moved to the bathing room, and stripped of her clothes. She needed a bath... She needed some time alone.


	7. Chapter 7

Sansa was avoiding him. And yes, it wasn't the nicest thing nor was it appropriate for a Lady of her stature but... Well, it wasn't that she hated Aegon- Sansa barely knew him well enough to hate him- but she certainly wasn't happy with her situation. Sansa suspected Aegon wasn't happy about it either, and so, Sansa was avoiding ber future husband.

Gods above... Future husband. And to Sansa the worst part wasn't that she was getting married, it was that her future husband was absolutely beautiful. Sansa couldn't help but clench her fist. She would not allow his beauty to cloud her judgement... She had already made that mistake with Joffrey. She would not do it again. Not with him.

"You can't hide forever."

Sansa looked up and met Margaery's honey colored gaze. The Tyrell smiled sweetly and sat beside her friend on the bench beside the rose bushes in the royal garden. Sansa smiled at the older girl, she looked a lot better now that she'd been allowed regular baths and a mew wardrobe. Of course, her hair was a bit shorter and her skin much paler, but she was still lovely.

Why couldn't Margaery have married the Targaryen? Yes she was an ambitious girl but her family had been loyal to the Targaryen's during the rebelion... That had to count for something didn't it?

"I'm not hiding." Sansa insisted, crossing her silk clad arms over her chest.

A soft giggle. A small smile. Margaery's hand on her shoulder.

"Yes Sansa, you are." Margaery stated.

"And what if I am?" Sansa snipped.

There was a moment of silence. A moment in which Margaery studied Sansa while the Stark pretended to be absorbed in the sight of roses and peonies. The moment was broken when Margaery's delicate hand began to smooth over Sansa's shoulders. The red head jumped slightly. It'd been such a long time since anyone had touched her with tenderness for the sake of consoling her. Little finger had done it often enough but his hands had always wondered a bit to much for Sansa's liking. For a moment Sansa considered telling Margaery everything. For a moment she thought about spilling everything out before Margaery's feet. She stopped herself from doing so however. _You can't trust anyone in King's Landing_. Sansa swallowed.

"Do you remember the first time I saw you?" Margaery implored.

"Yes," Sansa replied slowly, "I believe you told me that you'd never seen anyone so unhappy."

"It was true... Listen, I know why you'd be hesitant to trust me after what Petyr and my grandmother did, but believe me when I say that I am still your friend Sansa. Please believe me when I say that I want nothing more than for you to be happy."

"I am happy. I am to be a married woman, my people are to receive the medicine and Maesters they need, and soon Winterfell will have an heir... For that, I am happy." Sansa recited tonelessly.

If Margaery was simple minded she might have believed Sansa. Knowing the red head wouldn't say anything else about the matter. Margaery accepted that. Sansa had always been guarded toward her and those living withing the Red Keep, and Margaery knew that when her grandmother and Petyr had framed Sansa for Joffrey's assassination they'd all but destroyed Sansa's trust for them. Margaery hoped to rebuild that trust.

"If you insist." Margaery muttered dismissively.

Sansa exhaled through her nose. The sun was warm on her cheeks as she tipped her head back. It was lovely outside. Sansa was used to the Southern hear just as she was used to the Northern chill, and though she'd always prefer the chill of her home to the heat of the South, there was something pleasant about being able to sit outside and enjoy the sun without having to wear several layers of clothing.

"Lady Sansa?"

Oh. Sansa almost cringed. She'd been working so hard at avoiding the Targaryen... She'd made it through a week without having to speak with him, she should have known it wouldn't last long. Slowly, Sansa stood and turned to gaze at her husband to be.

Aegon Targaryen stood beside them wearing leather and black silks. Obviously, hemd just gotten back from working with his dragon. His hair was tied back with a velvet ribon and his cheeks were reddened by the wind, but it was his eyes that made Sansa swallow. She'd never seen that exact shade of purple before. They were lovely.

"My Lord." Sansa greeted.

Aegon's eyes drifted to Margaery and the Tyrell bowed her head before slipping away. Sansa wanted to call her back, demand she stay, but she kept quiet and smiled politely at the man before her.

"Would you like to walk? With me... Around the gardens?" Aegon asked, wincing after he'd finished.

"I would be honored." Sansa stated as she looped her arm through Aegon's.

They walked in uncomfortable silence and Sansa wondered if Aegon was just as uncomfortable with their situation as she was. It wouldn't surprise her in the slightest. It wasn't like Aegon Targaryen felt particularly fond of the Stark line, the love affair between his father and Sansa's aunt hadn't exactly ended well and had cost the lives of all but one member of his family. Sansa understood the resentment he must have been feeling. She herself only had one living relative thanks to the Lannisters...

"I understand this union is not what either of us wanted," Aegon said suddenlt, and when Sansa went to reply he held up his hand, "there's no use lying Lady Stark. I understand your hesitation."

"May I ask why you've brought this up?" Sansa asked softly.

Aegon turned his head to glance at the woman at his arm. "I only wish for neither of us to be unhappy. The gods know we've had enough unhappiness."

"You can't force happiness, your highness." Sansa replied.

He might have laughed. He might not have. He did look at Sansa though, studied her as if he had never reallt done so. Sansa risked a glance. Aegon appeared troubled, there were dark bags under his eyes and though they were faint Sansa knew they were the spawn of sleepless nights. For a moment she pittied him.

"No you can't." Aegon agreed.

"Then why are you trying?" Sansa wondered.

She bit her lip a second later. _Know your place_. Sansa blinked, she should not have overstepped her place. Questioning a prince the way she had was punishable by death... Or at least, it had been with Joffrey. Aegon stopped suddenly and Sansa almost cringed away. She refrained from doing so but Sansa couldn't help but jerk her hand away from Aegon's body. He frowned when he noticed the action, causing Sansa to wonder if she'd angered him further.

"I'm sorry, I shou-"

"You have nothing to apologize for, if anything it's I who has something to apologize for. I've startled you, I apologize for that." Aegon said.

If she'd been any other person Sansa would have stuttered out some sort of sort of apology that had nothing to do with anything but she kept her mouth shut. She wouldn't give him a reason to be angry with her. When she didn't offer any words Aehon continued.

"I do not want our union to be an unhappy one, it will do oittle good for either of us."

"I agree." a lie, and then a question Sansa did not want to ask, "What do you suggest we do?"

Sansa wanted Aegon to loose interest in this conversation, to loose interest and walk away and leave her be. That wouldn't happen though, Sansa knew that, but it didn't mean she'd accepted it. Aegon had grown still beside her, still and silent and lovely.

"Would you like to break your fast with me tomorrow mourning? I would have offered to break your fast with you tonight but I have previous engagements."

Well, he certainly seemed to be sincerer. Sansa smiled politely.

"I'd be honored." She whispered.

Another lie. Another false smile. Aegon would never know the difference. Sansa almost frowned, he'd stop caring eventually. He's loose interest with her and he'd only acknowledge her when need be or when she gave birth to their first child.

Aegon's smile was sudden, sudden enough to catch Sansa off-guard. His smile was absolutely adorable, it gave him a boyish look, a sweet look that would have made Sansa swoon years ago.

"Wonderful," Aegon exclaimed, "would you like to break your fast in the gardens?"

"If it please you, My Lord." Sansa replied.

And he smiled a little wider at that. For a brief flickering moment Sansa almost thought she could come to enjoy Aegon and his smile but she'd foolishly goven her love to Joffrey based on his beauty. Never again.

"Then I will see you in the mourning, My Lady." Aegon promised as he bent to kiss Sansa's hand.

Her hands were soft, very soft. Aegon dropped his wife-to-be's hand and straightened. He was oddly excited about tomorrow. It wasn't like he felt anything but curiousity toward the girl who would one day be his queen, but he did want to know more about her. Honestly, he just wanted a good marriage, he wanted a marriage that would end better than his own parents' had. Aegon wanted a wife he could trust, he wanted to be trusted and rellied upon and loved even if just a little bit. Sansa was to be his wife and Aegon didn't want to cause her the pain Joffrey and Little Finger had.

When Aegon left he dropped a kiss upon Sansa's hand once more before hurrying off. He had to speak with the leather worker about making a new saddled for Rhaegal. Aegon only had a saddled fit for one person and if he were to fly with another person then Aegon would risk the life of the other. And Aegon did not want to gamble with Sansa Stark's life.


	8. Chapter 8

Aegon knew the leather workers were compitent but he'd never imagined them to be artists. He'd gone to retrieve his new saddle expecting to find it tolerable, if that, enough for the time being. Aegon had been pleasantly surprised.

The saddle was by no means the most beautiful thing Aegon had ever seen, but it was far lovelier than he'd thought it was going to be. The saddle could comfortably seat two without the risk of injury or death, the leather had been dyed black, little dragons had been engraved into the dark hide, little rubies made up their eyes, a tribute to the Targaryen house colors no doubt, and the girth was of braided leather made to match the rest of the saddle. Aegon happily paid the leather workers for their troubles and ordered them to have it delivered to the Red Keep.

Truth be told, Aegon had thought of having the saddle commissioned days before he'd even thought to have Sansa Stark fly with him. Aegon smiled to himself. He was to break his fast with Sansa tomorrow morning, he planned on taking her into the skies then... Or at the very least introduce her to Rhaegal.

The Targaryen Prince wasn't sure how his dragon would react to the girl, but, it would be safer to familiarize Rhaegal with Sansa than to not. Aegon ran a hand through his hair as he paced his bed chambers. Why was he so agrivated? It wasn't like Rhaegal would _kill_ Sansa Stark... Yes, there's been the Martell boy- Aegon couldn't remember his name- but he'd entered a dragon's nest without a Targaryen- Daenerys to be more specific- and he'd gotten himself killed due to his arrogance. But Rhaegal wouldn't harm Sansa when Aegon was around, would he?

With a sigh Aegon fell back onto his bed, ever shifting purple eyes closed briefly before flickering open and drifting across his chambers. It was a very Targaryen room to say the least. Black and scarlet décor from ceiling to floor, not that Aegon minded the color scheme, he was a Targaryen after all. Besides, his chambers were peppered with trinkets from his travels.

Glass rocks from the Saphire Isles. Books from Qarth. A snake fang cloak fastening from the Basilisk Isles. Ice gems from the shivering sea. Tomes from Myr. There were more scattered about but Aegon wasn't in the mood to remember all of his adventures. And though he didn't despise his life of adventure and travel, he would admit that it had been incredibly lonely.

Jon had been kind as any father would be but he rarely leg Aegon play with children his age, and most of the crew under Jon's command were much older than Aegon. So yes, he'd had moments of bitter loneliness, and even now Aegon felt as if something were missing.

Which in itself was difficult to admit since he'd been given almost everything he'd ever wanted. A permanent home. A loving aunt. A kingdom. His birthright. A dragon. He wasn't vain by any means, Aegon knew that those things could all be taken from him... So what could he be missing? Aegon wasn't entirely sure.

The silver haired prince glanced at the sky outside his window. Stars speckled the sky like little beackns. A beautiful night, but, Aegon knew he'd best be getting to sleep. He had a very busy day tomorrow and he needed to sleep. And so, the boy blew out the candle burning on the bedside table, slid under the silken covering on his bed, and closed his eyes.

* * *

When Sansa Stark woke the next morning she wasn't expecting to see Tysha moving about her room. Silent as a shadow, but much happier. When Sansa sat up and brushed the tabgled mess of her hair away, she groaned. Her head throbbed and her eyes burned, her throat felt raw as well... Like she'd been screaming all night without pause.

Could she even remember her dream? No, not really. The memory was foggy at best but Sansa could have sworn she'd seen Bran... Well, not Bran as she'd last known him. The Bran she'd seen looked much sadder, much older than the little boy she'd left behind in Winterfell all those years ago. He'd called to her, spoke to her in that saddened voice, held his hands out to her, and for a moment it wasn't a dream, for a moment jt was real, and then Bran moved toward her on strong legs and Sansa's reality became a taunting dream.

"Good morning My Lady." Tysha greeted happily.

"Good morning, Lady Lannister." Sansa replied absently.

Something about what Bran had said bothered Sansa, and it agrivated her that no matter how hard she tried Sansa could never remember what her little brother had said. It made Sansa want to beat her palms agaisnt her head in frustration.

"Are you ill, Sansa?" Tysha implore suddenly, causing Sansa to start and cringe slightly.

Tysha sat at the edge of the bed, her gentle fingers pressing against Sansa's forehead, searching for any sign of a fever or illness. Sansa couldn't remeber the last time someone had touched her like this out of genuine concern for her well being. Years ago her mother had been the one to do such things. But that was then, and now Sansa had another mother worrying over her.

"I assurs you," Sansa whispered thickly, "I'm wuite alright."

A lie.

"If you're certain..." Tysha said.

As soon as Tysha moved away Sansa stood, stretched, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She was to meet the prince and break her fast with him. The dress Tysha had chosen was made of grey silk, wolves danced across the hemming and a leather corset made up the midsection. It was pretty and modest. Something Sansa rarely saw in King's Landing.

"Thank you, Tysha... For everything. I know you didn't have to do this for me." Sansa said softly.

The brunette shrugged. "Ferryn adores you... Besides, I understand what it's like to be in a place where you feel no one can be trusted. Believe me, I wouldn't wish that on anyone." She said.

Sansa nodded as she sat at her vanity and began braiding her hair into sections before braiding it all into a coil. A twisting rope of autumn leaves wound around Sansa's head, a crown of fire and rubies that was completely her own. No jewels were placed in her hair, no necklaces drapped across her slender neck, today Sansa would be plain... Or, as plane as she could be.

When she finally left her chambers Sansa was met in the corridor by an Unsullied warrior. Sansa thought about asking where Asher was until she remembered that he and a few other Northerners were training. Sansa's orders. She needed her guards' skills to be sharp and well honed. The dark skinned man bowed slightly and turned to lead Sansa away. She followed quietly behind, ready to bolt at any sign of danger. What reason did she have to trust the man before her? The soldier led Sansa to the gardens, near the roses but closer to the fountain Sansa was fond of. And there sat Aegon Targaryen, waiting patiently, fiddling with his thumbs. He looked oddly nervous. And he stood very suddenly when he saw her.

"Good morning, Lady Sansa." Aegon greeted kindly.

"My Lord." Sansa returned as she lowered herself into the seat Aegon held out for her.

Lemon Cakes. Sansa noticed them almost immediately and her mouth watered at the sight of them. Lemons cakes weren't really a food served for the breaking of one's fast so why were they there?

"Tyrion said you liked Lemon cakes." Aegon stated softly.

"Thank you, then." Sansa replied.

They ate in a comfortable silence, speaking occasionally of trivial things until their food was gone and neither was hungry. Only then did Aegon offer his hand and smile.

"Would you like to meet someone?" He implored.

"Might I ask who?" Sansa questioned as she took his offered hand.

"No one who will harm you, I assure you." Aegon promised softly.

Sansa wasn't sure she believed him but she allowed the silver haired male to lead her through the gardens. Sansa allowed the prince to lead her through the grounds of the Red Keep until they came to a field.

Sansa would have thought nothing of it, would have believed him to be rather drull in his surpises, if it hadn't been for the three large dragons sleeping in the field. Almost as soon as her Tully blues landed on their scaled bodies Sansa Stark's blood turned to jagged ice in her veins. Was Aegon planning on killing her? Was that it? Did he dislike the notion of their future marriage so much that he had resorted to killing her? Sansa glanced around nervously. There was a large rock she could use to bludgeon the prince to death with if he attacked her but Sansadoubted it would do much for the dragons that would surely attack her.

Aegon said something in a language Sansa recognized as Old Valyrian, and she watched, horrified, as the cram colored dragon with the gold accents opened his large anber colored eyes. The crature stood lazily, stretched its wings absently, and curved its impossibly large neck toward the sky.

Oh good gods. Sansa was going to die.

Obviously her body had betrayed her thoughts to Aegon because his grip loosened slightly and he turned to meet her eyes. His own were surprisingly soft, as if he understood her reservations.

"Rhaegal won't harm you." Aegon promised and Sansa, in her stupidity, almost believed him. "Here, I'll show you."

Before Sansa could scream for any form of help the dragon was before her. Its large, bright amber eyes gazing fiercely into her pale blue ones. The dragon cocked its head and Sansa took a breath. It blinked and Sansa pursed her lips. It sniffed at the air and whisps of unbound hair fluttered like embers towards the dragon's nose. Knowing that the wrong move could cause Sansa's immediate death only made the Stark girl all the more nervous. And in her nervousness, Sansa clenched her hands and straightened her shoulders. Defensive posturing was probably the stupidest thing she could have done but the dragon merely snorted, as if amused, and turned it's large head toward its master.

Sansa had half a mind to turn around and go back the eay she and Aegon had gone, propper etiquette be damned, but Aegon's hand at her wrist stopped her cold.

"Do you trust me?"

Sanda didn't reply. No, she really didn't trust Aegon Targaryen. Not yet anyway... She might never trust Aegon, and perhaps he knew that as well because the boy smiled sadly and gently lifted her hand toward the dragon's snout. Shutting her eyes would have been cowardly, and Sansa was no coward. So instead she watched as Aegon smoothed her hand over the dragon's cream and gold snout before covering her slender hand with his much bigger one.

The first thing she realized was that Aegon and his dragon were both relatively warm. Unnaturally so, in fact. It would have been odd for anyone else. It would have meant possible illness or excretion but not with Aegon. With Aegon it meant fire, and it meant blood. It meant Old Valyria and it meant magic.

"Would you like to ride him?"

"I'm not overtly fond of hights."

Aegon chuckles and heat flies over Sansa's ear and neck from where his breath made contact with her skin.

"I assure you, it will be perfectly safe, and I'll not make you fly alone." Aegon assured softly.

For a brief moment Sansa was distracted by hard muscle and the heat of Aegon's body as it pressed against her own. But only for a moment. As soon as the moment passed Sansa pulled Way and smoothed her hands over her bodice.

"I find it doubtful that the presence of another would ease my discomfort." Sansa snipped suddenly. Her face was a mask, an icy, impenetrable mask.

Aegon blinked, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in his future wife's posture. Had he said something to offend her? Done something to cause her discomfort? If so, he hadn't meant to.

"I apologize for offending you, Lady Stark... I meant only to introduce you to my dragon and offer you a ride. I see now that my actions might have been to presumptuous." Aegon replied stiffly.

He wasn't mad at Sansa, not in the slightest. Aegon was angry with himself. He'd seen Sansa's discomfort when they'd entered the field, he's felt her trying to pull away from him and yet he hadn't thought much of it as it was a natural respone for many.

"May I take my leave Sir?" Sansa implored quickly, desperate to get as far from the dragons in the field as possible.

"If it please you, My Lady." Aegon replied.

Sansa bowed stiffly, rose, never met Aegon's eye, and left.


	9. Chapter 9

Margaery appeared at Sansa's door the next morning with two maids and a large package in her arms. Sansa raised a brow but allowed the three women into her chambers. Margaery didn't say anything as the maids placed the trays of food down on the table, and remained silent until the door to Sansa's chamber shut. Sansa watched through bright eyes as Margaery placed the object she was carrying on the bed.

"Why are you here Margaery?" Sansa asked slowly.

It wasn't that she wasn't glad to see the older girl, she was, it was just... Hard to look at Margaery and not wonder if she lied about having nothing to do with Joffrey's murder and her grandmother's plan to frame Sansa for his death. And though Sansa readily testified for Margaery, that didn't mean she wasn't suspicious.

"I thought we could spend the day together. Eat, drink, talk about our futures. I've brought you an early wedding present, I hope you like it." Margaery said kindly while motioning behind her to the package she'd brought.

Sansa smiled softly as she stepped up to the box and pulled the cloth covering the object away. Sansa allowed her hands to trail over the pale blue silk. Margaery smiled delightedly and pulled the gown away from the packaging, which gave Sansa an unobstructed view of the silver direwolves sewn into the hemlines of the sleeves and skirts. Beautiful wolves of silver that chased one another cross the everlasting plains of blue silk. The pearls sewn into the bodice were scattered about, the gown was simple and lovely and Sansa smiled at the older girl.

"Thank you." The red headed woman breathed.

"You're most welcome, now come. We'll eat and bathe and then we'll go and do something fun." Margaery giggled.

Soon the two girls were dressing in simple gowns of cotton and plaiting their already wet hair, there was sugar on their tongues, and Sansa found herself putting aside any hostility that might have remained toward Margaery Tyrell. The dark haired woman smiled as she picked at the maroon skirts of her dress. Their dresses weren't really dresses to be honest, more like the linings women in the north use to keep warm when they wear silk, the only difference? The sleeves, which were thin and short and clingy.

"Are you ready?" Margaery asked as she took Sansa's slender hand in her own.

Sansa nodded slowly, was she ready to sneak through the red keep in little more then a slip and a thin covering to keep her modesty? No, not really, but their guards wouldn't be accompanying them and Sansa wanted to bask in that little freedom Margaery was offering her. So yes, she nodded and smiled softly as Margaery pulled Sansa's hood over her head to cover the drying red hair. Discretion was their top priority at the moment.

The two women snuck through the red keep, making sure to keep to the servants corridors and passages long since forgotten. There was a moment when Sansa thought they'd been caught, it happened in one of the servant corridors, they two women had found one of the Unsullied Warriors- Greyworm?- had Queen Daenerys' personal hand maid pressed against the wall, his hands were on her hips and his lips were pressing soft kisses to her neck, and she was moaning things in a language Sansa didn't know. It was an intimate scene and the two girls were quick to leave before they got caught. Then they were pushing through a door and onto a sunlit path.

"Come, quickly." Margaery giggled happily as she took Sansa's hand.

"Where are you taking me, Margaery?" Sansa demanded half heartedly as she allowed the dark haired woman to pull her down the path.

"Somewhere fun. I promise."

Sansa didn't say anything else until Margaery diverted from the path and led her to a set of cracked stone step built into the side of the cliff. And Sansa realized where Margaery was taking her, the beach. Sansa assumed it was the beach anyway, somewhere private that would explain the thin dresses and the light slippers Margaery had insisted on them both wearing. Sansa wasn't wrong in her assumptions, the beach Margaery brought her to was covered in white sands and filled with blue waters. margaery laughed as she pulled off her cloak and flung it away.

The black fabric floated down like a great black raven nesting in the sand, and when Sansa looked up again Margaery was in the water, her skirts clinging to her legs and her bodice turning a dark color from the water.

"Are you coming or not?" Margaery called.

Sanssa slowly removed her cloak and folded it before placing it beside Margaery's. Then she was kicking off her slippers and racing toward the blue waters. Margaery pushed her under the water as soon as Sansa's waist had turned a dark slate color. Sansa emerged from the water sputtering, the plait in her hair had come undone and was plastered to her cheeks and her neck. Margaery laughed, and Sansa refrained from commenting on her friend's actions. With a sigh Sansa pushed the wet hair off of her shoulders.

"That wasn't very nice, Margaery." Sansa commented.

"Yes, well, it was amusing." Margaery replied with a shrug and a soft smile.

They stayed in the water for hours, splashing and swimming and pushing until their clothes began to weigh them down and the sun had moved halfway across the sky. Then Margaery followed Sansa out of the water and onto the white sands where they spread out their cloaks and sat. Sansa watched the clouds, large things that looked like cotton. Beside her, Margaery was twisting her hair, trying to get the water out, without a care in the world. She looked happy, Sansa supposed, she wasn't entirely sure what the Tyrell girl was feeling... Sasna hadn't asked.

"How are you Margaery? I haven't been a particularly good friend, have I?" Sansa implored, twisting her body to face the older girl.

Margaery hesitated a moment, her plump lips thinning into a line before a small smile pulled them up. The she was speaking.

"I'm well, grandmother wrote to me yesterday, told me that everyone in Highgarden misses me, that no one speaks ill of my... discretions... I don't necessarily believe her, people talk, and I've given them quite a bit to talk about." Margaery said, her face smiling and her eyes sad.

"Are you being treated well here? No one's hurt you have they?" Sansa question because, surely, if someone had hurt Margaery then Sansa might be able to do something to keep it from happening again.

"No, nothing like that... I've made a friend, and, most of my time is spent with him."

Sansa smiled and uttered an amused, "Him?"

Margaery blushed lightly and nodded.

"Yes." She said. "You know him. Asher Cassel."

Sansa wasn't surprised. Not that she was jealous of Margaery, Asher was a good man and any woman would be lucky to hold his affection... It was just, Sansa knew Margaery to be an ambitious girl. However, looking at her now Sansa saw no signs of deception in her friend's face. There was only a light blush on her cheeks and a smile curving her lips... And besides, Asher was Captain of her guard, not a steward of Winterfell, so if Margaery was trying to place herself in a position of power... She wasn't reaching quite as high as she usually did.

"Yes, Asher, I know him. Good man... Does he make you happy?"

And perhaps the words that came out of Margaery's mouth next held more truth to them then anything Sansa had ever believed her to mean.

"Yes, he makes me very happy. Happier then I've been in some time."

So Sansa nodded once and congratulated Margaery on her happiness before turning her attention back to the sky. There wasn't anything interesting about the sky, a few clouds, a bird or two, and a bright yellow ball of light. Nothing interesting. Sansa closed her eyes, listened to Margaery talk about Asher and King's Landing and her brother Loras- who had survived his incident and had taken a new lover, though Margaery doubted he'd ever love another as he loved Renly Baratheon... Sansa could respect that.

"Sansa?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you see that?" Margaery asked.

And Sansa pried open her eyes to look for whatever Margaery had seen. She didn't see anything, not at first, and then something large and dark caught her eye near the horizon. _A dragon_. Sansa realized with a frown. But which Targaryen was out riding? Surely neither of the two remaining Targaryen's allowed their dragons to roam free. Dread settled in the pit od Sansa's stomach, they wouldn't do that... Would they?

"Do you think it's Aegon or Daenerys?" Sansa questioned slowly.

Margaery tapped her chin a moment before she said, "Aegon. Queen Daenerys has several meetings today that she can't afford to miss."

Sansa made an uncommitted noise but didn't say anything, istead she turned her attention to her drying skirt and the uncomfortable feeling of drying sand on her legs. With a sound of disgust Sansa lifted her skirt a bit and began to brush the sand from her legs.

"I bet he's looking for you. We've been gone for quite some time, or, perhaps he wishes to impress you." Margaery said suggestively.

"It would take much more then a dragon to impress me." Sansa stated firmly.

Margaery laughed, a happy sound, a bubbly sound.

"And what, dear friend, Impresses you?"

A moment passed in which Sansa looked back to the sky and allowed herself to assess the shadow of the dragon gliding through the sky. She frowned suddenly, her eyebrows pulled closer together and her fingers curled around the hem of her skirt.

"I don't know." She said, and left it at that.


	10. Chapter 10

Aegon had grown accustomed to his aunt's sudden appearances in his room, at first he'd been startled by it but over the years he'd grown accustomed to waking up to find his aunt sitting silently by his window or at the table in his solar. Yes, it was odd and most of the time she would merely appear out of nowhere but Aegon didn't mind so much anymore.

"Good morning." He greeted softly as he rubbed the pad of his finger against the corner of his eye to remove any of the sleep that might have accumulated over the night.

"Hm. Aegon, have you been to the seamstress yet? She wants to finish fitting you. The wedding _is_ in a week you know." Daenerys stated with a pointed look.

The young man rolled his eyes and uttered a soft, "How could I forget?"

He hadn't meant it cruelly... Well, Aegon didn't think he meant it cruelly, it was just that Sansa had rarely spoken to him since the incident with Rhaegal and it was starting to worry the silver haired prince as he'd be sharing a bed with her in a few days. He'd hoped to take her flying- despite the fact that he absolutely hated riding with a saddle- however, he'd been unable to find her.

His aunt leveled him with cool lavender eyes and uttered a firm, "You aren't making an effort, Aegon."

The prince slowly removed himself from his bed. He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced at the oily feel of it. He'd need a bath before he did anything remotely close to leaving Maegor's Holdfast.

"Do you truly hate the idea of this marriage so much?" Daenerys asked before she pressed a grape into her mouth.

Aegon stilled. It was asked so suddenly that Aegon almost missed it. He turned to stare at his aunt, she was looking at him with those lavender eyes that saw everything you didn't want them to see.

"Of course not." Aegon replied.

"Then why do you hide? Do you think Sansa Stark has been avoiding you?" His aunt laughed, "She might not spend every waking moment at your beck and call but her habits are easy enough to follow and I'm sure that if you tried you might even be able to find her in the gardens with Tysha and her child."

The silver haired boy narrowed his eyes a bit before he took an apple from one of the bowls on the table.

"I do not seek out Sansa Stark because I do not wish for my wife to despise me."

"And what have you done to make her despise you, nephew?" Daenerys' voice was a hard, vicious thing.

"It is not what I have done but what I might do. You've surely heard the stories."

And Daenerys tilted her head to the side, causing the silvery hair atop her head to spill over her shoulders, then she said, "You think yourself to be something like that bastard king?"

Aegon shook his head and uttered a firm, "No."

"Good, because to think such a thing would be idiotic."

With a smile, which was a little mocking in Aegon's opinion, Daenerys stood. Aegon watched as the silver of her gown caught the light sifting through the window just so and shown like spider silk. It was revealing in its style and Aegon found himself wondering if his bride-to-be would consider wearing anything like it.

He doubted she would... But that didn't mean Aegon didn't entertain the idea for some time. It didn't mean the silver haired prince didn't wonder what Sansa Stark would look like in a gown of lace and little more. Beautiful perhaps, stunningly so.

Aegon shook his head before those thoughts could continue. Nothing good would come of it.

* * *

Several hours later Aegon found himself sitting through yet another of his Aunt's council meetings. Tyrion sat to Daenerys' right and Aegon to her left. The men of the council spoke of trade and house alliances, they spoke of the refugees who sought save haven within Westeros, and of those who would threaten Daenerys.

"There is, of course, another matter at hand." Varys uttered.

Aegon stared at the balding man, watched the spider as he smoothed out his robes and shifted in his seat. Aegon hardly trusted Varys but the man _was_ useful.

"And that would be?"

"Peter Baelish is coming to King's Landing. My little spiders have been keeping a close eye on him for some time now and I do believe his intentions are far from innocent."

The silver prince felt the bite of his nails digging into his palm, felt the warm wetness that began to leak from the scratches, and scowled.

 _Peter Baelish._

Aegon had heard much about Peter Baelish. He'd been nothing in his youth, a child with no title who'd risen above his station- in a sense- and had caused the biggest civil war known to Westeros. He was also the man who had coveted Sansa Stark for reasons Aegon could only guess at. Not that he'd be wrong in his assumptions, Peter Baelish was a vindictive little shit.

And Aegon would kill Peter if he dared to lay a finger on Sansa Stark.

Because while there was no true love shared between the two- and Aegon hesitantly admitted that he hoped that one day there would be- Sansa Stark was still his wife-to-be. And aside from that, the girl had been through so much in the past years. Terrible events that had only come to pass because Petyr Baelish couldn't keep his cock, or his ambitions, to himself.

"I want him watched." Aegon snapped causing several eyes to snap in his direction.

"It will be done, Your Grace." Varys promised with a gentle smile.

But Aegon doubted Varys truly understood why Aegon wanted Petyr watched.

 _If he lays a hand on Sansa Stark_ , Aegon thought darkly as the meeting progressed, _there will be no safe place for him to hide_.

Because there might not be love between them but Sansa would still be his wife, his queen, the mother of his children and Aegon would be damned if he allowed anything or anything to truly harm her.

He would not be his father. He would not be Rhaegar, who left his true wife and his children as hostages to a mad man. Rhaegar, who didn't think to protect his family from those who he knew would harm them should they get the chance.

Aegon clenched his fist.

Petyr Baelish would die if he so much as laid a finger upon Sansa Stark's person. Of this, Aegon would make sure.

* * *

Ferryn Lannister is a sweet girl, so very sweet indeed.

She smiles softly when Sansa steps into the little area of the garden where Tysha spends her free time.

"Lady Sansa!" Ferryn cries delightedly as she throws her arms around Sansa's waist.

"Hello Ferryn, is your mother here?" Sansa asks.

Ferryn pointed at off toward her left before dancing away into the flowering bushes.

Sansa shook her head and moves to find Tysha.

The older woman was sitting on a stone bench with a book in her hands, her lips moved to form the words and her fingers traced a path under what she's reading. It didn't surprise Sansa that Tyrion is having someone give the woman lessons. Knowledge was not something that someone could take from a person once it was obtained.

"Good morning Lady Lannister." Sansa greeted as she lowered herself onto the bench beside the other woman.

Tysha offered a gentle smile before she put her book away. "Hello Sansa, are you well?"

"Yes, and yourself?"

"As well as I can be," Tysha smiles as her hand drifted to her stomach.

"I believe congratulations are in order." Sansa said, eyes focused on the woman's still flat stomach. "You must be very happy."

"We both are... Personally, I think Tyrion hopes for another girl."

"And yourself?"

"A boy perhaps, to carry on the legacy."

 _Sometime I shall not be able to have once i marry_ , Sansa thought but refused to let the smile fall from her face.

The two sat there for several moments, talking about the babe that would be coming and Ferryn's joy at the idea of being a sister. They spoke of King's Landing and Tysha's lessons as well.

Sansa's wedding was not brought up. Not until Ferryn appeared with a crown of Lavender and Limonium in her hands. The six year old offered the crown to Sansa, who bowed her head so that Ferryn could place her gift atop fiery strands.

"Thank you, Ferryn. I love it." Sansa told the younger girl, causing the blonde child to blush.

"I thought that perhaps you would accept it as my wedding gift to you."

Sansa stiffened a bit but smiled none the less as she said, "I would be honored to accept such a gift."

Ferryn smiled delightedly before disappearing once more.

A moment passed in which neither Tysha nor Sansa spoke, they merely watched the other from the corner of their eyes, and then Tysha sighed. Turning to face the younger girl Tysha reached out to place a hand on Sansa's knee.

"Might I offer you some advice, My Lady?" Tysha inquired.

"You may." Sansa replied softly.

"Your wedding is in mere days Sansa and I... I heard that Aegon had a saddle commissioned."

Sansa pursed her lips, unsure what that meant exactly. Wouldn't it be necessary to have a saddle commissioned? Don't the Queen and her nephew use saddles to ride their dragons? Yes, they grow rather quickly but surely...

As if reading her thoughts Tysha continued, "Saddles are not needed by Targaryen riders."

"What are you saying?"

"My Lady, his grace _is_ trying. He wants an unhappy marriage as much as you, and while I don't think his methods will get him very far I do know that a man who doesn't care wouldn't attempt to form a connection." Tysha breathed.

"I do not love Aegon." Sasna affirmed.

"And I doubt that he loves you, forgive my boldness, but that does not mean that love cannot grow."

The young woman sighed as she rubbed the pad of her thumb over her palm.

Gods above, she wanted love. She wanted her husband to come to her in the evenings and share her bed even if they never touched intimately. She wanted the love her parents had... But their love did not grow over night. If anything, it had taken the birth of several children to truly cement the love Eddard and Catelyn Stark shared.

For a brief moment Sansa wondered if she was even worth that kind of love.

She's gotten her father killed, her siblings killed, her kingdom had almost gone up in smoke and for what?

A Wardeness of the North who's family name would fade into history the moment Aegon Targaryen's cloak draped itself across her shoulders.

"Perhaps." Was all Sansa said to Tysha's words.

"Have you seen the seamstress yet? I heard she's exceptionally good."

Sansa wanted to tell Tysha that the woman was indeed a skilled seamstress. She's made Sansa's dresses all those years ago and Cersei Lannister's as well. Never Margaery's though, the brunette had had a personal seamstress come form High Garden when she'd arrived at King's Landing. But instead Sansa nodded her head and informed Tysha that she'd gotten fitted for an entirely new wardrobe.

Because Northern dresses would not be comfortable for her to wear once the summer months came.

It was only tolerable now because winter was fading into spring and the air had yet to gain the sweltering temperature that Sansa had grown to despise in her time in King's Landing.

"My Lady?"

"Yes Tysha?"

"I understand that i may be over stepping my bounds but... Your Septa, she taught you the ways of the martial bed yes?"

Sansa froze.

She's expected this from Daenerys or perhaps Margaery but not... Never... Gods above!

With an unflattering blush Sansa managed to stammer out a soft, "As much as she could... My bleeding began after... Well, Cersei's words were not as educational as I would have hoped."

 _A woman's weapon is between her legs_.

Wasn't that what Cersei had said?

Tysha's disapproving scoff caused Sansa to blush harder.

"Honestly, they expect you to be bedded with no knowledge of the act itself?"

"I'm sorry?"

Tysha sighed, "Sansa I won't let you fear your marital bed."

"I don't fear it."

And Tysha's answering look told Sansa that the older woman hadn't believed any of what had just come out of Sansa's mouth. Sansa didn't really believe it either to be honest.

Suddenly Tysha stood, her silken skirt swishing around her feet and her hair gleaming in the sunlight.

"Come, there is much to discuss and it is not something I would discuss here." Tysha then turned toward Ferryn and the Unsullied warrior standing near her. "Please make sure that Ferryn returns to the Keep before dinner, there is something I must attend to."

The dark skinned man blinked slowly before offering a brisk nod.

Tysha was pulling Sansa away before the red headed girl got the chance to protest.

* * *

Sansa wondered if it were really necessary for Tysha to tell her... All that she had.

Obviously the woman was knowledgeable, it wasn't like it was a secret that Tysha had been a whore before Tyrion had found her again. So when one of the Unsullied came and told Tysha that Tyrion was looking for her Sansa was more then a little relieved.

And she waved Tysha out the door of her bed chambers with a gentle, if not embarrassed, smile.

Once Tysha was well and truly gone the red headed girl ran a hand over her face and glanced out the window.

It wasn't near late enough for her to change into her bed clothes, and she suspected there was at least an hour before dinner was to be served... Which meant Sansa was left to her own devices. The knowledge elicited an odd feeling somewhere in Sansa's gut.

She'd never actually been free to do as she pleased when she'd been a hostage, a prisoner of war. But now? Now Sansa found herself wondering if anything had changed. Of course, Sansa could always find out. It's not like the Unsullied warriors would touch her, not when Daenerys had ordered them to protect her should the Northern guards fail.

 _I am safe_ , Sansa told herself.

So it was with a nod that the red head moved to open her door.

She was met with the sight of lavender eyes and silver hair.

"Your grace." She greeted, curtsying to the woman who would soon be her good-sister.

Daenerys raises an eyebrow and Sansa questioned how someone with such fair skin could look so pretty with hair that silvery-white. But, she supposed it might be a Targaryen attribute.

"Did I interrupt something, Lady Stark?"

"No, of course not your grace."

"I wished to inform you that we will be receiving a party from the Eyrie within the next few days." Daenerys said after a moment, the kindness in her eyes hardened by the tightness of her features.

It could not be her aunt for Lysa had died years ago, nor could it be sweet Robin for he was too ill to leave the Eyrie- a sad thing seeing as the boy truly was kind... If not a bit odd. Sansa could say without a doubt that _that_ had something to do with Lysa's inability to properly raise the boy. And Jon Arryn's inability to stop his wife's own odd behavior before it had a chance to effect his son and heir.

So who could it possibly be?

"Might I ask who, your Grace?"

Daenerys sighed through her nose, eyes flashing, lips pursed. Sansa felt her stomach clamp. Had she done something to upset Daenerys?

"Petyr Baelish will be arriving with a small party and will be staying until after the wedding."

But at that point Sansa wasn't listening.

 _Petyr Baelish_.

A drunken fool, a boat, bloody knives and thin lips on Sansa's cheek.

 _Petyr Baelish_.

A secret, father, bastard.

 _Petyr Baelish._

Marillion's hand on her breast, Her aunt's scream as her body fell through the Moon Door, Sweet Robin's fits.

 _Petyr Baelish_.

Lips on her own, a hand lifting her skirts, feeling her skin, unwanted, the need to flee.

 _"Father's do not touch their daughter's so."_

 _"Of course not, my sweet."_

 _Petyr Baelish._

 _Petyr Baelish._

 _Petyr Baelish._

 _No._

"Sansa, are you alright?"

The girl took a breath and offered Daenerys a tight smile that would never reach her eyes even if Sansa tried to make it more realistic. "Of course, Your Grace... I was merely surprised is all."

Daenerys hummed as if in agreement before she offered a stiff, "Then if there is nothing else I shall take my leave. Good night, Lady Stark."

"Good night, your grace."

Sansa shut the door as soon as Daenerys was a respectable distance away.

Her knees felt weak, so bloody weak, and so Sansa lowered herself onto the bed and dropped her head between her knees so that she could breathe. It couldn't be happening. Not him, anyone but him.

 _Give me Cersei and Joffery, give me the hound, but not him... Please._

Because Petyr Baelish, while the only person to ever teach Sansa the game, was the very man who caused the most terror to strike Sansa's heart. Not that Joffey or Cersei hadn't caused Sansa a great deal of terror, because they had, it was just... Sansa knew what Joffrey and Cersei wanted.

Joffrey? He wanted tears and bruises, so Sansa gave him all of the tears she had until there were none left and even then Sansa gave them.

Cersei? She wanted Sansa's pain, so the golden queen was given haunted eyes and terror filled glances.

Because it kept her alive.

But Petyr? Gods, Sansa didn't know what he wanted.

Oh, she had an idea. After all, it wasn't a secret that he'd loved her mother, obsessed over her even, and it wasn't a secret that Sansa looked enough like Catelyn Tully that one could possibly mistake them had they not known Catelyn in her youth or seen her in her years before the war had killed her. Petyr wanted Sansa's body, that much was certain. But what else did he want?

The North? The throne? Certainly Petyr wouldn't settle for just the Eyrie.

Sansa sighed and ran a hand over her hair before tugging the leather band holding the braid together from the auburn tresses. She doubted she'd be attending dinner that evening, and if she did then her stomach wouldn't allow much in the way of eating.

With something akin to a growl Sansa shoved off of the bed and stormed over to the basin of water where she quickly used a damp cloth to dab at her face.

 _He isn't here yet_ , she told herself as she tossed the cloth away.

And when Petyr Baelish did arrive in King's Landing Sansa would be more then ready for him.


End file.
